Spirits of the Sea
by cmgacrux
Summary: She can almost feel his hot breath ghosting across her neck, his sensuous lips brushing her earlobe... Sparrabeth


_Disclaimer: Don't own them._

**Spirits of the Sea**

_by_

_Claudia M. Gacrux_

_-------------_

A shaft of silvery moonlight slants through the window, and a tallow candle gutters while nimble fingers undo a silk ribbon. Flimsy fabric slides off her shoulders, and she laughs quietly, voice lilting and melodious. Even though the dawn is drawing nigh, she isn't sleepy. Her eyes, large and brown as earth, are wide open, and her quick mind is as alert as ever when she settles on her bed. She cranes her elegant neck, and her gaze sweeps the room as though she were a sailor, scanning the horizon for signs of land. A gentle breeze kisses her alabaster skin, flooding her mind with sweet remembrances that make her heart swell with yearning, as she sinks into the bed. Her lustrous locks spill over a soft pillow, and when she traces her ruby lips with her fingertips, her eyes flutter closed, a delightful shiver passes through her.

His wonderfully deep voice rings in her ears, her body twists and curves, the recollection of his rough hands upon her soft flesh making her gasp for air as the blood rushes madly through her veins, and the fervid heat of desire spirals to her core, numbing her senses. Her heart pounds furiously in her chest, and when she suddenly remembers how he teased and taunted her, how he made her want him more than anything, a silent cry of frustration tears from her dry throat.

After a while, she moans brokenly. She can almost feel his hot breath ghosting across her neck, his sensuous lips brushing her earlobe, his calloused fingers burning a path into her flesh, marring her smooth skin in the most perfect way possible. And she trembles like a leaf, wanting him with every fiber of her being, as she bites her full bottom lip and fists the rosy coverlet.

This is too much for her, she can't take this anymore.

Panting, she sits up, her slender limbs entangled in linen sheets, shaky breath warming her parted lips. She swallows hard, then forces her eyes open. The pallid moon hidden behind a thin veil of milky mist is climbing down the dark sky, peeking surreptitiously at her. She frowns, bringing a trembling hand up to her heaving chest while the sweet, scented air of the night blows through the open window, cooling her hot body and raising goosebumps on her skin.

She cradles her head exasperatedly. Oh, how she wishes he were here with her. She hasn't seen him for three months, and she's missed him terribly. Without him to kiss and touch her, her life has become a maddening torture. Every waking hour brings back memories, every minute confirms she made a mistake. She shouldn't have returned to Port Royal. She should have stayed with him.

Should have told him she loved him.

She lets out a small whimper and crawls out of bed, her golden tresses shimmering in the candlelight; the room swims before her eyes as she stumbles to the vanity, wistful and infused with anxiety. She glances at her reflection in the mirror and grips the back of a nearby chair—the purplish circles under her eyes stand out against her white skin, her hair falls in knots and tangles, and her lips are parched, dried by the fever ravaging her body.

She looks tired.

"No." She shakes her head, unwilling to accept the truth, and turns around.

She regards her four-poster bed as though it were a fine vessel gliding across the sea of gleaming floorboards. The tall posts loom before her like masts, and the georgette curtains hanging from the frame dance in the breeze, graceful and genteel, decidedly different from the proud sable sails of a pirate ship, but similar to the blindingly white canvas mounted on a caravel. The sight calms her, soothes her even, but it doesn't take her long to get anxious again.

Hastily, she pulls on her muslin robe, and before she can change her mind, she rushes to the door and slinks out of the room.

Her light footfalls and the loud thumping of her heart are the only sounds she can hear as she creeps downstairs, her shadow slithering across the walls, her white robe floating around her legs like a cloud of dust. She knows it's reckless to leave the Governor's mansion before the sunrise, but she doesn't care. She just wants to get closer to the sea.

She wants to feel better.

And as she nears a crescent of white sandy beach, walking through a bleak and desolate expanse of plain, tall grass, she can see the majestic sea; the last beams of moonlight sparkle on the inky water while pearly whitecaps spring up from the depths and race ashore, urging her to meet them.

She starts running.

The breeze blows tendrils of her hair around her face, and the sand scrunches beneath her bare feet before she wades into the cold water, shivering slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. She relishes the feel of the waves crashing against her frail body, and for a fleeting moment, everything seems to be fine; she feels whole again, for the sea consoles her, singing a familiar lullaby that spreads drowsiness through her.

Sighing, she opens her eyes to look at the bluish horizon tinged with golden pink.

She knows it's silly to hope against hope that he'll come for her, but she can't help it. Not when her heart chants his name over and over again, imprinting the memory of him upon her soul as if he hadn't done it himself. Not when she finally understands she can't live without him.

Planting her hands on her sternum, she draws a deep breath. The golden orb of the sun shines before her, and a small smile graces her exquisite features as she turns around, surprisingly calm, ready to go back home.

Suddenly, her brown eyes meet his coal-black ones, and her breath hitches in her throat, her heart slamming against her rib cage. She blinks, looking him up and down while thoughts swirl rapidly through her mind, confusing her.

She can't move, but it doesn't seem to surprise him.

Tilting his head to one side, he smirks at her, arrogant and glorious, even more wonderful than she remembered. The trinkets in his hair jangle gently as he approaches her, and she snaps out of her reverie. Quickly, she runs to him and flings her arms around his neck, whispering his name like a prayer. He sighs, putting his arms around her, his bronzed hands gripping her possessively while she presses a featherlight kiss against his neck. She has so much to tell him, yet she can't utter a single word—partly because she can't concentrate on talking with his body pressed so hard against hers, partly because of happiness surging inside her.

They_ are together, _so her temporary inability to voice her thoughts doesn't bother her.

They_ are reunited. _And she is glad, knowing that the unspoken promise of a future together envelops them.

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